Mistakes Can Be Positive
by murdercrowther
Summary: Ever wonder how the Bots paid for the stuff that was human made? A supplier. And now, the SIC - who at the time was half conscious - made a mistake. A mistake that somehow gets him caught up with Anne Parker - The supplier. Mistakes can both ruin your life, while at the same time, be the best thing that ever happened to you. This is the mistake that both of them made.
1. First Mistake

**MISTAKES CAN BE POSITIVE**

* * *

**THE ARK**

**8: 47 A.M**

Prowl sat behind his desk, silently going over a datapad. He hadn't recharged in three weeks, and it was beginning to show and affect his ability to work. He hadn't refueled in a while either.

Being SIC was a hard job, and he had continuous amounts of work. If he looked away for simply a moment, the reports would have tripled. It was unnerving.

The report he was currently reviewing was a whole month late, and had just been deposited by their resident master spy, Jazz. While the saboteur was his friend, Prowl couldn't help but wish that the other would hand in work on time. It was a simple request, yet went unheeded. All the time.

Satisfied that the file contained the necessary points, he reached to his right, grasping for the next datapad. What he was met with, was the cool metal surface of his desk. He blinked. That couldn't be right.

Door wings flicking slightly, the Praxian turned disbelieving optics to the side. There was nothing. No more reports. He checked his schedule log. All duties completed. In fact, today seemed to be totally clear…

He was – to some degree – now wary.

Great, now he was becoming Red Alert. Paranoid.

Another warning flashed through his CPU, clearly stating that he needed to refuel and recharge. He supposed that the latter should be completed.

Steeling himself for the inevitable, the Bot left the confines of his office/room. The hallway was empty. This was getting very uncomfortable. He expected someone – anyone – to suddenly come screaming down the passage. The quietness of this situation was something he had longed for, but now found to be eerie.

It was either that, or he was losing it due to lack of rest. The black and white mech decided upon the second option.

As he walked down the orange corridor towards the private energon dispenser for all officers – preferring it to having to go to the rec room, where he would have to socialize – the SIC began to hope. Was this one of those oh-so-rare days, where he had no work, no problems, and could just rest?

That was answered for him, as the dispenser he stood before relinquished a purple substance instead of the usual. He stared at it for a moment. No. He still had to worry about the twins. Or the person/Bot who did this. Though his first choice was Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

Taking a calculated risk – and suddenly becoming way to unaware of his surroundings or thoughts anymore – he brought the fluid to his lips.

It was spat out instantly. His logic computer was very sluggish, and that was never good, as it led to him making and voicing decisions or thoughts that he normally wouldn't have even considered. The sooner this was fixed, the better.

He looked up what the dark purple liquid was. It was a human drink, known as 'Prune Juice'. Why humans made this terrible substance eluded him. Prowl didn't even bother thinking about it. That was how tired he was.

So – staggering slightly – he made his way to the rec room. The hated place where Bots went to mingle when off duty. It was horrible.

Passing some of the rooms, he noted that his sensors didn't pick up any life signatures. That was strange. Usually, they would be inhabited by a couple of mechs, at least the ones who got off night duty.

This was getting more and more peculiar by the astrosecond.

Eventually though, his thoughts just slurred together from exhaustion. The sooner he got that energon, the better. He could punish the Twin- whoever did this, whenever he woke up from stasis. That was going to be a long time from now.

Why they had to end up on _this _planet of all planets, was an act of cruel fate. This populated rock allowed for the Autobots to acquire different materials and hobbies that distracted most of them from the real problems facing their faction. Whether the black and white Praxian found it illogical that they purposefully tried to block out the cruelties of war, or the fact that he was jealous that they had a distraction, can't be explained at the moment. But he knew that they couldn't shirk their responsibilities to simply explore nature – Hound – or spend increasing amounts of time with the humans – Bumblebee.

But soon he just started not bothering to make sense of the thoughts in his mind, as his pedes brought him closer to the dreaded room.

How could he not have anything to do today? Not that he was protesting, but it felt almost… surreal.

The Bot hadn't gotten any memo concerning meetings, or… well… anything. Gathering enough wits he accessed Teletraan 1. No, there didn't appear to be any activities or going-ons that he had been informed of.

Now half aware of his surroundings, the mech stumbled towards the doors that enclosed the much needed fuel, and the inevitable assembly of Cybertronians and humans.

Sometimes, it just didn't seem worth it.

* * *

**THE ARK**

**8: 30 A.M**

Sparkplug walked down the extremely large halls, with a sense of unease. This was caused by the fact that the person beside him was controlling a lot when it came to the Bots. Even if it was inadvertently. The Autobots didn't just magic up all of the human equipment that they have. How did Sideswipe and Sunstreaker get the cash to pay for all the materials used for their pranks? How did Ratchet pay for equipment to patch up the mechs after battle? How did Wheeljack acquire human materials that would later end up as another fiery explosion?

Sponsors. That's the answer. But it was one sponsor. Yes, the government did supply some things, but the female beside him supplied a continuous stream of cash. And now, she was having second thoughts.

This lady was also his manager. Anne Parker had dark brown hair, slightly longer than her shoulders, and dark brown eyes. She was clad in a navy blue suit.

The reason that the female had doubts was because half the time, the money she invested in them was spent on various paints and obscure human contraptions – Wheeljack.

Her lips were pressed into a firm line. Sparkplug had this one opportunity to change her mind, or she was cutting them off.

The man had spoken to Optimus about this, and the Autobot leader decided it would be best for her to meet all the Cybertronians and humans in the Ark. So that she could see what her money was doing. Kind of.

Everyone had been informed of this. Hopefully. They were to meet in the rec room at eight thirty five in the morning. Annoyingly early, and a lot had objections to that. Including the human friends. So, the earthlings had stayed over for the night, to be there in the morning.

He just hoped everything would go smoothly. He wasn't so much worried about what the extraterrestrial beings would do, he was more concerned what his son and Carly would say. Not that they weren't good kids, but every teenager goes through a rebellious stage, where they disregard other people's feelings.

He sucked in a breath as the large orange doors – seriously, why was there so much orange? – loomed before them. This was what they had to accomplish. Get Anne to keep funding them.

The doors slid open easily, and they were greeted with the – albeit slightly tired and irked – faces of Autobots and humans. None were too pleased at the early morning wake up. This decreased their chances considerably.

The Prime went over to them, "Miss Parker, I assume?" He received a nod, "Welcome to the Ark. I understand that you have been the one who has been supplying us with sufficient funds since we arrived. We are grateful for that."

"It has been my pleasure, Optimus. But now I am having doubts on whether I should continue that… arrangement." The brunette replied, but the stiff exterior softened dramatically, and a small smile – slightly disheartened – was on her face.

"Why is that?" The Prime had been informed of the reasons, but it just seemed easier to allow the human to explain.

"Well, for one, most of the money invested has been spent on brightly coloured paints." Several glares were sent to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, "As well as twelve coffee machines and a dishwasher. I… really don't know what you did with that." Wheeljack slunk further back.

"I can assure you mam that that will not happen again." Optimus reassured the organic being. She nodded slightly, and Sparkplug jumped at that opportunity.

"Uh… yeah. Hey, allow me to introduce some of the humans on base. My son, Spike Witwicky." The organics stood at the front of the gathered assembly, and were easy targets. Said boy was pushed forward by Carly, who wore a mischievous grin on her face.

"Uh… yeah hi." His awkward and distracted greeting was taken smoothly by the brunette.

"Hello. Your father has told me so much about you. It's nice to meet you in person." She held out her hand, and he shook it absentmindedly. Sparkplug moved on quickly.

"And this is Carly." That was about it for the humans. They were the only ones who actually showed up.

"Hi, pleasure to meet you." The blonde was much more civil to the sponsor. I suppose that's just what you called them.

"Likewise." They shook hands. Then it was off to the Bots. No, apparently fate sucks.

The older woman – just as her 'Employee' was trying to introduce her to Bluestreak – overheard a comment coming from the younger boy she met, Spike.

"Wonder how _old _she is?" Emphasis on the word 'Old'. The brunette spun around quickly, and glared daggers at him, while Carly simply face palmed. Great. Spike's father just sighed. There goes any chance they had.

"I'm not old! Thirty nine is _not _old! In fact, it is considered a great age for some people! You get to call me old when you're more successful than me, got it?!" She shouted. As for any woman, age is a touchy subject. Very touchy.

The rec room door slid open and Prowl literally stumbled in. He really needed to recharge, this was embarrassing. Then he noticed how there were so many Bots there.

_By Primus, what did I miss? _He thought.

"Oh, and who's this? Were you just listening in and then just happened to come through at that exact time, or are you in it with this guy?!" He noticed a new femme standing a few meters away. What was going on?

"Come to make fun of the 'Old' lady, hey?!" She seemed really angry. Almost enough to rival Ratchet. Almost. He chose the most tactical path, while at the same time, not really realizing what he was saying.

"No. And how would you be considered old?" Optimus was watching his SIC closely. Why hadn't he showed up sooner? The commander was positive that he had sent a reminder.

"Well, apparently, they think that thirty nine specifies that I'm old!" Anne was still shouting. The black and white Praxian's door wing twitched minutely.

"Thirty nine? That is not even half a vorn. Age is not a factor for you." The Bot's wits were not with him.

She blinked, before recovering herself, '… uh… first off, I don't know what a vorn is. Second humans differ from you guys. We live much shorter lives." The rage was subsiding.

Prowl looked at this person closely. Why was she here? It didn't make much sense. But then again, he was half awake. Or half asleep, however you want to put it. Why had he not been informed of her arrival?

Although, maybe he had been. He really wasn't paying attention at the read of most of the reports. It was just too… fuzzy.

The Bot continued the conversation, forgetting that there were other beings in the room beside himself and the human he was currently addressing, "That is true. But to the Cybertronians here, who have lived for nearly over nine million years, you are very young. It is from our stand point."

"Yeah, well apparently my own species can't seem to overlook that fact. Besides, you'll still be alive after I die anyway." She scowled, her temper returning.

"Possibly. But that is beside the fact. Take it from an example of a living being who has a much shorter life span than humans. Like you domestic pets. To them, Spike and Carly could be considered ancient." Maybe with dogs, but cats live longer.

The two humans who he had referred to, meant to interrupt him, but were stopped by the brunette, "But that's still from something else's perspective. And to a dog, I am way more ancient than they will ever be." She gestured to the adolescents.

The Autobots watched on with amusement. This was turning into an entertaining prospect. Jazz started recording this, clearly aware that his friend had not recharged in ages.

Prowl frowned, "You doubt yourself."

"Damn right I doubt myself. I was just called old. Publicly. That's embarrassing." She stated. Neither knew the others name or designation, and yet both were conversing freely.

"Not as embarrassing as having your entire office glued to the ceiling along with yourself." The SIC retorted. She actually had to stifle a laugh at that, while Sideswipe smiled triumphantly. Spending two weeks in the brig had been worth it.

Anne composed herself quickly, not allowing him to gain the upper hand – or servo – "Well, age is not a nice thing to be reminded of. It's embarrassing, and makes you self conscious." This had turned from an argument into a simple conversation.

"You need not be, as you are young." He insisted. Now, he literally had no idea what was coming out of his mouth, he was that detached.

"Oh yeah?" She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "From a Cybertronian or human standard."

Prowl was only a spark beat in replying. Little did he know how his next few words were going to condemn him, while simultaneously bless him, "Both. You are an attractive woman."

Silence…

Then the audible sound of someone's jaw dropping. This was… very, _very _unexpected. Especially from the SIC. The stoic, emotionless, workaholic, SIC.

Anne was just as surprised, "W-what?" The tactician no longer knew what was going on, "Are you… complimenting me?"

"Yes."

A brief pause as she thought things over, "Are you… flirting with me?"

"Yes." Apparently this was the only word he could say at the moment. A loud crashing sound came from the back, and it just figured that the paranoid security director had to glitch at this unexpected revelation. Even if it wasn't intended.

Ratchet went to tend to Red Alert, muttering a string of curses. Most of it in Cybertronian, but also some in English. He had been learning.

Miss Parker just stared at the black and white Autobot before her, and her face heated up in an evident blush.

"Uh… wow… that was… frank. And gutsy to admit… are you free next Saturday?" The last part was said in a rush, like if she didn't say it quickly, she'd chicken out.

Still unaware, Prowl answered, "Yes."

The smile that broke out was that of relief, "Uh… good… could I meet you here at eight then?"

"Yes." Yeah, there were a lot of yeses that were said in a half sleep daze.

"Great… I… uh… I'll keep supplying you guys with money regularly. Thank you, Sparkplug for bringing me here. I… uh… know the way out." Casting one last glance at Prowl, she made a hasty exit.

And – like a tight cable snapping – all optics were on the SIC, who just stood there, motionless.

Prime regained control, equally stunned at the weird interaction that had just transpired before them, "Alright. Thank you for coming. Return to your duties." Several Bots went off, grumbling about the early hour. These mechs were evidently the ones who had been on night duty.

Others simply sat down and had their morning energon. Hey, they were up weren't they? Why not?

Red Alert jolted upwards after Ratchet brought him out of the crash. His optics were wide and darting back and forth over the room. Inferno stood next to him, a troubled look in his optics, while the CMO simply growled and stood up roughly.

He turned sharp optics on the black and white Praxian in the room who was still standing there, totally still. He stormed over and did a quick scan. He cursed.

"Slaggit Prowl! Your energy levels are down! And when did you last recharge?" The medic demanded, but Sparkplug intervened.

"Ha! That was great! She kept the contract! Do you plan this beforehand or just make it up as you go along?" The human male asked. Prowl blinked, as some of his senses came back to him.

"What are you talking about? What did I plan?" The SIC questioned him. Optimus watched this, and realised that the mech had no idea what he had just gotten himself into.

The human hesitated, "You know. That. Just there. With Anne." He persisted.

Prowl remained impassive, "Who is 'Anne'?"

Jazz came up to his friend and held out an energon cube, "Drink." Was the one worded demand. The tactician didn't need to be told twice. It was downed in a moment, and his optics brightened as he finally acquired the much needed fuel. The saboteur grinned then, looking forward to what he was about to do.

"Now, Anne is tha lady who was just 'ere. And you just got a date wit' 'er." The spy informed him. His friend just blinked.

"Date?" He understood this term as a set time, usually measured in months, days and years. Why had he just gotten a set time with her?

Ratchet stood to the side and groaned. He was going to have to bring another Bot out of a crash very soon. Jazz saw his friend's confusion. Oh this was too good to be true.

"Yeah, date. Look it up, and then replay tha conversation ya just had wit' tha human." He was really enjoying this.

"Why?" While he may be more focused than before, Prowl's processor wasn't functioning perfectly.

"Just do it." The suave Bot insisted. Releasing a resigned vent, the SIC did just that. Though the CMO was sending a glare towards the saboteur at the time.

It was a long moment as the Praxian replayed the conversation he had just had with the human. He wasn't aware of anything he had said previously. Now, realizing exactly what he had done, his vents hitched audibly.

He had an… arrangement with this… Anne Parker… on the human day of Saturday, at eight…

This could not be happening.

No, he was an emotionless mech. He couldn't be distracted from his work. He couldn't have any distractions. He would simply tell Anne Parker that he wasn't aware of what he was saying. Yes, that's what he would do. But how could he have done this in the first place?

"Hey Prowl? I was wondering why you said those things to that lady, because you usually don't do things like that. And why did you accept her invitation, because that's not like you at all, 'cause you hardly socialize with us, so it's strange that you would with a human that you just met. Is there a reason you did this, or was it a ploy or something-" Ah, Bluestreak, always talking a mile a minute. The young gunner was cut off as the other Praxian glitched, "Oh. Was it something I said?" He asked the couple of others who were watching, as Ratchet went and started to bring the SIC out of his crash.

Jazz laughed, while the Prime looked on with disapproving optics at both his saboteur and tactician, "Nah, Blue. It's what he did that crashed 'im."

The young Bot thought about this, "Okay, that makes sense. Just why did he do it though?"

The fiery medic sighed, "We'll never know Bluestreak. We'll never know."

* * *

**PORTLAND**

**9: 04 A.M**

Anne drove down the town road. Her mind was on the peculiar interaction she had just shared with that Autobot. She didn't even know his name, and yet she had dove in with a proposal for a date… and he had accepted.

Not that Miss Parker was an unattractive woman; she just didn't get complimented a lot. It was simply because people believed she was married. 'Look, a woman at her age not married' Stereotyping and sexist bastards. Then this alien robot comes along, and she just… jumps at the opportunity.

Besides, it would be nice to know more about him- them. Them. The Autobots. Not just him. She wanted to know that her money was being spent correctly. Not just on dishwashers.

She still wondered what that was used for.

Frankly, she didn't want to know.

Maybe she could ask that black and white Autobot on Saturday. Ok, this was getting annoying. She needed to know his name. He probably knew hers… with some help from the others.

Anne turned left on the road. A long line of large mansions covered this area. Most held successful business men with families. Hers held one person. It was a big house, way to large for one person, but she had got it at a good price, hoping she may be able to share it with somebody one day. That had been ten years ago.

Miss Parker had all but given up. She had family that came and stayed over, but it was rare, and it was mainly her siblings and their bratty kids. Annoying little pests…

The brunette shook her head. She silently chastised herself, _This is why you have no one, you idiot!_

She pulled up in front of a dark grey house. While not so effective in summer, it definitely kept warm in winter.

Parking in the long drive way, she made her way to the front door. It was opened for her, and she stepped in without a single glance at the man who she employed to do such things. Hey, when you're rich, you might as well make the most of it.

Taking off her jacket, and draping it over the nearest chair, she accessed her computer. Typing in 'Autobots' she was allowed a detailed description, as well as hastily taken pictures of the Bots. Skimming through them she looked for the one she wanted. There was… nothing. No pictures.

She made a note: Does not get out much.

There was information on him however. His name was Prowl. He was the second in command to Optimus Prime, as well as the Autobot offensive Tactician. That was it.

"There is not a lot about you is there?" She spoke to herself. The human did that often.

Leaning back on the wooden chair she was sitting in, Anne thought about him. That had been _very _gutsy to just say that. But then again, if he was a tactician, it was kind of expected. They were the ones who were talking about logical and illogical decisions. So he might as well have got it over with.

She wondered if maybe she had been to forward though.

That thought was immediately dismissed from her mind. When you've been alone for thirty nine years, you didn't pass up any opportunity. Even if it was a giant alien robot. As perfectly displayed on so many things, women like her were… usually desperate. Except for the ones who didn't want any relationship. Though, who would want such a lonely life?

She had three days till Saturday. Maybe she should have suggested Friday. No, Friday was a meeting. Earlier? Nope, booked up.

Well, till Saturday, she supposed.

It was a wait, but the brunette could handle it. She _had _to handle it. Anne sighed. This was getting pathetic. She should probably talk to someone about it.

Or…

Getting up from the chair she went to a bookshelf. Removing a leather bound folder from it, she flipped through the slightly brown pages. She had had this for over thirty two years. Everything that she knew was in this. It was like a biography almost.

Opening on the pages that weren't filled with different scales of eligible handwriting, she began anew. It had been three years since she had previously opened this book. And now, the rich woman was back.

Grabbing a pen, she started writing.

_Portland_

_13/8/1987_

_I suppose my first mistake was not knowing him first. Never did I catch his name in the first five minutes of meeting him. He didn't know mine either. Yet, I dived at the chance. Of course, I've been desperate for so many years. And I have that teenage boy to thank. If he hadn't commented on my age, none of that would have transpired._

_How my siblings got luckier in love than I did eludes me. They had always been a doubtful bunch. They despised any idea of romance, yet turned out to be the ones who accomplished that. And yet, they say I'm the lucky one. That I made it big. I would trade that in a moment for what they have. But, they also seem to want loans from me almost continuously._

_But, hey, maybe I am an old lady to some people. Or to everybody I meet. I just got lucky with him, because… well because he's several millennia older than I am. I'm young compared to him. _

_But – as he said – age is not a factor. Humans should not be judged on this. More to be on personality and actions. Not wealth or age. Or beauty._

_Yet I ponder. What if I was younger? Would I be more successful in this fruitless, never ending journey?_

_Ah, but to dwell on thoughts that hardly help me. Or anyone else for that matter. I know that one day I'll be assassinated, probably by some mad man – or woman. Cant rule out that factor._

_But until such a time when I can leave, I'll be stuck hoping. And maybe this will be my way out from inevitable thoughts of suicide. I suppose I could pay somebody to date me… but that would be really pathetic._

_And, the weird thing is, I've already started a will. Can you believe that? A will. I'm not even half way through my life and I already have a will. But then again, if you have this much money, you have to be ready for anything._

_One thing's for sure, none of this cash is going to my siblings. Undeserving bastards. Come ask me for money again why don't you? Just because you have a freaking gambling problem, or want to start up a business because your other one – which I paid for by the way – failed, or because you want money to direct a movie that you say will get me fifty percent of the gross, but then later I find out that it's a porno_

"Mam?" An elderly man stood beside Anne as she glared down at the paper. Only then did she realise that she'd been speaking aloud. Sending him a sheepish smile, the brunette apologized.

"I'm sorry Dave, kind of just… getting things off my chest." He nodded acceptance of that fact, but then gestured her to another room.

"Your attorneys are here to see you." She groaned.

"I can't believe that guy is _still_ suing me." The human female muttered, but got up nonetheless and slunk towards the sitting room. Nice to be able to use that word for once.

Dave looked down at the leather book. He wasn't one to pry, but Miss Parker was obviously distressed. She had been grumbling about 'Age' at one point. Why would she be doing that? He shrugged and simply went back to his duties.

Better not bother even asking anymore. He worked for a mad woman. Pay was good though.

* * *

PLEASE REVIEW

Well, this is the first G1 I've done, so if I screwed up on a few things, please correct me. Just to make sure. Yeah, I always wondered where they got a lot of their stuff, so I just decided on this course of action. The next chapter update should be better.

I update weekly, probably on Sunday, as I have another Fanfiction which is doing really well… mainly with the reviews, and that helps moral. So, if you guys could review this chapter that would be great. Just not flaming. I know, slightly weird start, but need to get somewhere. Besides, I've read stranger starts to a Fanfic.


	2. The Date - Set Time

**MISTAKES CAN BE POSITIVE**

* * *

**THE ARK**

**9: 36 A.M**

His processor on-lined before his optics did. The SIC internally groaned. Couldn't he have a few more joors of recharge?

Then he remembered that he hadn't been recharging. He had crashed. Due to the stupid thing he had gotten himself into.

Very reluctantly, he on-lined his optics, and was greeted by Ratchet and Jazz. Prowl released a vent. He was going to get chewed out by the medic.

His sensors noted that he was still in the rec room. Well of course he was. His processor had crashed while in this area. Sitting up slowly, he placed a servo to his helm. A throbbing processor ache had started, normal for whenever he glitched.

This was humiliating.

He glanced up at his superior officer, Optimus. The Autobot leader was watching him. Then the blue and red mech gestured for the Praxian to come with him. Prowl obliged. Ratchet began to object, but was stopped by Optimus.

They made their way to the Prime's office. While the SIC had an idea of what this was about, he was wary of attending it. No small amount of shame pestered him, and he didn't wish to look weak in front of his commander. He really must have been out of it if he had actually agreed to what the human had been asking. It was pathetic.

Arriving at the large room, the Bot sucked in a cycle of air. His logic computer was running at full capacity to come up with any number of excuses that didn't include the one that he hadn't been recharging or refueling. Again. It was a touchy subject.

But, the minute he entered, the Praxian immediately noted the presence of a human. A familiar human.

Sparkplug stood on Optimus' desk looking around the sparsely decorated area. Not many of the Cybertronians bothered to make their rooms look more… homely. Well, you wouldn't either if you were on a different planet.

Optimus nodded to his SIC and began, "Prowl…" but the Bot immediately interrupted him to account for his actions.

"I apologize for my behavior sir. I was… not entirely functioning correctly at the time. I know it was a breech of protocol-" The tactician began to explain to his leader, but was cut off by the human in the room.

"What are you talking about?" Demanded the organic male, "You've just saved our main money supplier! What with that thing Spike said, I thought we were gonna be cut off instantly. But then you come along, and do… well… that."

Prowl blinked, "She was our… supplier?"

The two other's paused for a moment at the SIC's question, "You… were not aware of this?" Optimus asked. The Praxian shook his head, indicating ignorance of that fact.

"But, you got a message about it." Sparkplug added. This confused Prowl.

"I do not remember receiving any message on this. I was not even aware she was coming today. Though that may be attributed to lack of fuel or recharge." He brought up a few statistics in his processor.

The Prime sighed. Once again, his friend had neglected his daily needs, in lieu of work. It was not healthy, and while Cybertronians were more immune than humans, they still died.

The human just waved him off, "Yeah, well whatever. The main thing is, you kept our supplier. And we need to keep her. So for Saturday, you need to-"

"I am not going to meet her." Prowl's perfectly emotionless voice stopped him. He blinked, while Optimus just waited.

"What do you mean 'You won't meet her'? We need to keep her as a supplier, and if you don't remember, you agreed to go with her." He pointed out. The black and white Autobot stared at him.

"I was not right in the processor at the time. She would be a distraction, one that I cannot afford." His words were so cold and logical.

"Ha! Please, a distraction? That's the last thing Anne is. Hell, half the time, people avoid looking at her." The human exclaimed. The two Cybertronians in the room blinked.

"And… why is that?" The leader asked. Sparkplug shrugged.

"Well… because she's old." The man wouldn't dare say it to her face, but it was fine behind closed doors. Prowl's optics narrowed as he ran calculations.

"If I am correct, you are older than Miss Parker." He pointed out. The human huffed at that, not believing that they didn't know.

"Yeah, but I'm a guy. We're fine to look at. Women…" He gestured to the ceiling flippantly, "Over thirty five and it's not much to bother with." The Autobots helms jerked back at his statement, and both looked at him with startled optics. The Prime spoke first.

"That is a very sexist remark Sparkplug." His voice held disappointment. The man shrugged again.

"Please, don't tell me you don't have that on your planet."

"No, we do not. Femmes are treated as equally well as the mechs." Prowl said, his usually emotionless tone hinted with restrained anger, "The simple fact that you just degraded one of your own species on a gender base, clearly places your kind as pathetic parasites that have no regard for one another. When this planet perishes it will be better for the rest of the universe-"

"Prowl!" Optimus stopped his SIC. The way in which the Praxian said these cruel words was in a monotone voice, which made it sound even darker.

The human blinked a minute, but then straightened, "Yeah? Well at least I aint the one on a date with one of these pathetic parasites."

"You yourself are a pathetic parasite then, as you obviously have no respect for her. And I am not going on this… set time… with her." He really could not bring himself to say date.

"Well you're gonna have to, or else the contract's scrapped. Even with what she said, she's one of those desperate people. Anything will set her off. You screw up with this, we're cut." It was a brutal reality.

"That seems like we would be using her." The mech said. The human smirked.

"No, because it'll only be once. Anyway, you're the tactician. Just come up with an excuse of why you can't see her anymore."

* * *

**THE ARK**

**19: 56 P.M**

**SATURDAY**

He was not okay with this.

He had stressed that point nearly continuously. Jazz stood next to his friend as they waited in the hallway. She would meet him here, instead of at the entrance to the Ark. This confused him. Wouldn't it simply be easier for him to meet her there? Then this whole ordeal could be over faster.

But, apparently not. Spike and Carly had explained, but he had just tuned them out. Organic nonsense had gotten him no where. Especially now.

The three humans stood beside him and the saboteur, waiting for Red Alert to shout into the communication lines that there was an unknown human outside. This was the system.

Sure enough, only a few moments later did he come shouting.

Jazz and Prowl cringed minutely as the sound entered their audio receptors. The humans saw that, and they knew that the woman was here. Spike volunteered to go.

"Uh… don't think that's a good idea," Carly objected. The teenager looked at her, confusion written on his face.

"What do you mean?" He asked. She shrugged, her gaze turning away.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe with the fact that last time you met, you called her old." Ah, memories.

He thought that over and nodded. So instead, Sparkplug opted to go. His excuse being, "I know her better."

The human male walked down the halls toward the gaping entrance. There was a silhouetted figure of a woman, with her back towards him. The male strode over, and called out.

"Hey, Anne! You can come in, nobody's gonna kill ya." Thinking back on it now, he probably should have just shut up.

The woman turned towards him and she walked in. Her hair was in a side braid, and she was wearing a black dress which was a few centimeters higher than her knees. She stared at him icily.

"And why would anyone want to kill me?" She asked, her expression unreadable.

He hastened to explain, "No, not like that. It was a joke."

Her expression softened, "Oh… sorry, I'm… kind of wary. I did threaten to cut you guys off, so…" He got the message.

"It's fine. Come on." He started leading the way, and she walked behind. The female looked around her at the walls and floors.

"Lots of… orange… isn't there?" She made small talk. It was hard interacting with your employees.

"Yeah," He scoffed, "That was the first thing we notice when we arrived. So… where are you going tonight?"

"A plot that I own." She replied simply. He nodded, accepting that at face value and not wanting to question her further.

Arriving at where the others were, she nodded at Prowl, while Jazz _just freaking_ _grinned_. The Praxian returned the gesture, somewhat reluctantly. Mentally, he was kicking himself. How could he have been _that _gone? And it wasn't even on high grade it was lack of fuel and recharge.

He must've been so out of it.

Not that there was anything wrong with this human. No, according to his scanners she was healthy.

Spike looked away uncomfortably as she showed up and sent him a look. Carly simply smirked at the boy's awkwardness. It was fun to watch other people's misfortunes. This is a fact.

After an awkward silence – which consisted of Prowl and Anne not making eye/optic contact – Jazz eventually intervened, knowing that his friend lacked any social graces to speak of.

"Alrigh', you two better get goin'. There's gonna be a storm later, so ya'll wanna be back before ten." Truthfully, he didn't know what the weather was like, he just needed an excuse.

Prowl looked at him, "There is no indication of such a phenomenon occurring toni-"

"No, no, he's right… we… uh… we better be going." Anne cut in. She started walking the way that she had come, and the SIC made to follow her, sending a glare back at the saboteur who seemed oddly pleased.

Carly smirked, "Aw, look at them go." She turned to Jazz, "You recording this?"

"Pit yeah. Most amazin' thing that's ever happened. Prowl on a date." The reality of that statement hit them like a battering ram.

"Eh, more surprised that he accepted Anne's invitation. She's one of those desperate people who will do anything for a relationship. Prowl's doomed." Sparkplug summed up. He didn't think very highly of his employer.

* * *

Prowl and Anne stood outside the Ark, neither of them making conversation. Both weren't used to these types of situations. For the Autobot, any social interactions were uncomfortable, and for the human… well… as previously stated she was desperate.

After an awkward silence she eventually spoke up, "So… yeah… my car's here, so you can follow me to the place, it'll be easier."

He nodded then watched her walk off before transforming. He didn't bother offering her a ride, because evidently it was easier to follow than to try understanding directions given by her. If they weren't actual coordinates, he truthfully didn't care.

Straightforward facts.

He saw her pull onto the dirt road that lead to their base and began to follow behind as she made her way further around the volcano, picking up speed.

Eventually, they left the mountain altogether. They reached rougher terrain, and the Cybertronian began to wonder where they were going. And he couldn't escape the fact that the most they had said to each other was simply an exchange of ideas on how they were to get to the destination.

While the mech may not be very good at socializing, he still had manners. More so than half of the others in the Ark.

We'll just skip the awkward ride over, otherwise you'll get bored.

Anne stopped her car just outside a clearing. This plot of land had been bought by her a few years ago, when her company had just started out. It had been prime real estate at the time, and she had considered building a house here instead of buying the building she currently resided in. But then environmental laws kicked in, and now she owned part of a nature reserve. It was easier than having to fight off nearly every hippy in the world. God, they were awful. Not their ideals, but _seriously. _As a quick after note, these are her thoughts, not mine. Though I do have a friend who is very anti-hippy, so if you are, don't come to Cape Town, South Africa. They will devour you.

At least the people I know will.

She stepped out of her car, and waited for him to transform, eyeing his alternative mode of a police car. While strange, she didn't question his choice.

Once he had changed into his bipedal mode, they eyed each other for a few minutes. They were standing on an empty plot, and nothing was going on. She mentally kicked herself. Why did she decide here? Well it's not like they could go to a restaurant. So, she decided that maybe conversation would be better.

"Um… hi…" Awkward start.

Prowl raised an optic ridge, and replied icily, "Hello."

Another long silence. Anne sighed. Might as well go in for the plunge, "Want to complain about the people we work with?"

The Praxian just blinked at her question. It was so… blunt. He considered this human before him. There may be more to her than previously analyzed.

"That sounds… interesting." The SIC concluded. She sighed in relief. At least she had broken the ice with him.

So, taking a seat on a conveniently placed rock, she turned her attention towards him. He remained standing, as there was not a lot of space for the Bot on this plot, "You want to go first?" She asked.

"I believe it is the custom of your species to allow the females to go first. As an act of courtesy." Prowl replied. Her eyebrows raised.

"Quite a gentleman aren't you?" She asked. He was confused at the term. Wasn't it simply custom for her species?

He didn't have a chance to question her as she started, "I know that you will not know who the people I am talking about are, but it is good to just… vent." – The Autobot now accepted that humanity was insane.

He just nodded, and she began, "There is the board of my company. They wish for me to get a partnership with an oil sheik. But, of course, they won't listen to my opinions or suggestions, even though I am the one paying their salaries. And then some of my workers are trading information with outside sources. I'm losing employees on an everyday basis, because they're either quitting or I fired them. I get home really late because people decide that I can just complete the reports. I've gone through seven secretaries in the last two weeks, and it doesn't seem like any more are applying. I'm losing money, and there is not much I can do about it." She explained. The Praxian listened intently. She was losing money, and yet she was still funding the Autobots. Interesting.

Drawing in a breath, she gestured to him, "Your turn."

He blinked, caught off guard. He didn't know if there was anything he could complain abou- No, there were a lot of things he could complain about, "I am constantly pestered by my fellow colleagues. Closer friends request that I come and socialize, or refuel, or recharge, when I do not need to. With mere acquaintances, I am the target of many different forms of pranks, ranging from crashing my processor, to gluing all of my office furniture on the ceiling. I get endless amounts of reports, and at the same time, reports that come in several weeks late. During battle, mechs do not listen to my tactical suggestions, opting instead to attack head on. We're stuck in a war with two leaders who can't seem to come to an agreement, and have destroyed Cybertron. I'm stuck on this backwater planet, with no means of getting off, and truthfully, I don't think I can stand it here any more. And many others would agree with me. I mean no offense to you Miss Parker, I am simply… not adapting to this… organic planet." He finished.

Anne nodded at what he said, "None taken. If I was on a different planet, I'd miss home to-"

"You do not understand. I do not miss Cybertron. I do not miss my home city, I miss nothing of it. My main purpose in life is to serve. That was what I was created to do. To be a tactical advisor. I had nothing before the war, and I shall have nothing after the war. I wish for it to be over as much as anybody, but there is nothing for me on this planet or my home one."

"Then you have to find something. Something that you can look forward to after your job is done. You may have been created to serve, but every sentient being has a choice. You are allowed to decide what goes on in your life. Its how I got so successful." She stated. He raised an optic ridge.

"Please explain." He asked. The organic shrugged.

"Well, I was supposed to be a housewife. My parents wanted that for me, wanted to have grandchildren, and wanted me married off at twenty one. No university or degree. Just a happily wedded daughter. I defied what they wanted, and now I am overly successful. And lonely." She was definitely hinting at something there. But of course, the Tactician didn't get any form of hinting which included socializing.

"That is unfortunate. Are your parents still functioning?"

She actually laughed at that, "Well, other than my dad's arthritis, I think they're fine. What about you?"

"Pardon?" Prowl didn't know what she meant.

"Your family. What are they like?" Great way to remain optimistic.

"Both of my creators are dead. My sire was a scientist, and my creator was a tender for the Praxus crystal gardens. I had no other siblings, and no friends. My sire trained me to use my processors to assist in tactical decisions. During the war my logic centers encountered a problem, and now anything that my processor deems illogical I go into a form of stasis. My sire is to blame for that, as he was the one who had a logic and battle computer installed far too early in my youngling hood."

"Hmm cruel childhood. I'm assuming sire is a father and creator is a mother correct?" She asked. He nodded affirmation of that fact, "Cool. So what were there names?"

"I deleted that memory a long time ago. I did not want to be reminded of who they are, lest they did survive. Any visual images of them have been distorted so that any physical identification is a moot point. I have memories of my youngling hood, but they are simply smudges on those." He said it so calmly that it shocked her.

"Why would you do that?" Anne demanded. His expression remained impassive, but his door wings flinched.

"Wouldn't you if your parents ruined your childhood?" He used the human term for her to better understand.

"Well 'Ruined' can be relative to a lot of things!" She stood up suddenly, almost challenging him.

"How about being used as a tool. As an experiment for your sire? Completely expendable, and easily replaced. I probably wouldn't even be here if he hadn't done that to me." The Praxian's door wings flared.

She sighed, then nodded, not wanting to kill off her only chance before it had even begun, "Sorry. I just can't imagine wanting to forget your own parents."

"Cybertronians have a choice in that matter. And a lot have chosen to forget so as to numb the pain of knowing you lost loved ones."

"I suppose that can help. But I guess everybody wishes they could forget their parents once in a while. And you guys live forever so I bet you wish it all the time." She included joking in this matter. A small smile showed itself on the Bot's faceplates. A rarity.

"What are your creators' designations?" Prowl turned the conversation towards her personal life, seen as she was asking about his.

"Dave and Alice Parker. My family has lived in Portland for a long time, so we have a lot of roots here." She explained.

"That is interesting… you are very peculiar, Miss Parker."

The human paused at that, staring up at him. Then she smiled, "In a good way I hope?"

Prowl smirked, "Indeed."

* * *

**THE ARK**

**23: 04 P.M**

Prowl pulled up and transformed just outside the Ark. He was surprised at how long he had stayed with Anne. Normally he would've just been searching for a reason to leave. But she had been very…

He couldn't really describe it.

And it was evident that others couldn't believe it either. He was greeted by Jazz and Ironhide barely a few steps inside. Sideswipe stood in the shadows, wanting to listen in on this. A spark dampener covered his presence from the sensitive door winger.

"Wow," The weapons specialist greeted him, "Never woulda thought you'd be the one out on a date."

"Yes." Prowl replied tersely, "Keeping in mind that at the time I was not aware of what was going on."

The Bot laughed, "Yeah? Well it obviously must have been good enough for you to stay out with her for three hours."

Jazz was grinning as the SIC replied, but both mechs were surprised at the tacticians answer, "She is very interesting." Prowl began to walk past them, "We spent the entire time comparing hellish tales of what we do on an everyday basis. Jazz, I trust you have completed the work that came in while I was away?"

The saboteur hesitated. That was right. He had to do that. Except he had forgotten – forgotten being used very lightly. The term 'Didn't bother' fits the description far better. The TIC mentally shrugged it off as he considered his friend. Prowl seemed in scarily high spirits, so he could probably just get away with lying. Hopefully.

"Uh… yeah… not a lot came in though." He came up with. The Praxian kept walking.

"Thank you." He rounded the corner quickly, wanting to get back to his office.

Sideswipe made to move from his place in the shadows. Unfortunately, some aft head had left a large crate hidden in the shadows. He didn't spot it in time.

A crashing sound drew the two Bots attention. They aimed their weapons instantly in that direction, not taking any chances. A red front liner came stumbling out, cursing to the pit and back.

"Slagging, rust head piece of fragged up box! Who in the Pit puts that there? Glitch brained aft holes!" He would make Ratchet proud. Jazz and Ironhide lowered their weapons.

"Sideswipe what are you doing?" The weapons specialist asked. The twin hesitated, not wishing to set off the most trigger happy mech in the ark.

"Uh…" He didn't have a chance to reply as Mirage flickered into form beside him, startling the front liner.

"Eavesdropping." The spy supplied for them. Jazz smirked.

"Good job 'Raj man. Nearly had me there."

The mech smirked, "That was the idea."

Ironhide glanced at the Bot, "So, how'd it go?"

"Apparently, it went rather well. Seems as though the human will keep funding us. And… I'd never thought I'd say this but… I think Prowl actually had a good time." The spy relayed. Sideswipe blinked.

"Wait. You were spying on him?" He asked. Mirage nodded, "Why? He would have told you everything if you just asked him."

"Not _all _o' tha details." The saboteur's grin widened, "Alrigh' 'Raj, what ya got?"

Mirage began to explain, but was stopped by Prowl's voice over the open communications system. Meaning that every Bot who was currently awake could hear him.

/: Jazz, please explain why my office no longer exists:/ There was barely retrained anger in his voice, and the gathered mechs – as well as anyone listening – blinked.

"What do ya mean?" Jazz asked. The SIC was a moment in replying.

/: I mean, what happened to it? All there is, is a smoldering hole:/ All sets of optics immediately shot to Sideswipe.

"What are you looking at me for, I didn't do it." He defended himself. They looked on in disbelief, "I'm telling the truth!" Still no change in the normal reaction, simply an unbelieving glance between the others.

/: Please report to… the outside of my office. Now:/ The line cut off, and Jazz's expression turned uneasy. Ironhide sensed the saboteur's reluctance.

"Relax. Just give Prowl the facts and he'll let you off." The mech suggested. The TIC nodded, and headed further into the Ark.

He had to endure monitor duty for the rest of the week. They never found the actual culprit. Jazz was simply getting this for the three month late report. And for missing out the last weapons meeting. Punishment was overdue.

Prowl would've eventually forgotten about the report and meeting, but now it just seemed easier to make someone suffer. He had to sit outside of his office until it was fixed. He now knew why the Twins made the higher ranking go through the Pit.

Sometimes, it was entertaining.

* * *

PLEASE REVIEW

I am so sorry for the late update. I had a lot of things on my plate, and I again apologize. For any of those who read Objectives, I shall get the next chapter up as soon as possible. I've kind of being writing this other thing, but now I'm not so sure on it.

Anyway, I want to thank the following people who reviewed last chapter:

addcleric

2211Nighthawk

FallingLBet

Guest

And anyone else who has previously reviewed, or favourite/ followed the Fanfic. This is so far a great start to the Fanfic, so keep reviewing! Thank you again, you guys are great!


	3. Visual Images

**MISTAKES CAN BE POSITIVE**

* * *

**THE ARK**

**15: 36 P.M**

Prowl sat in his office. It had been fixed up surprisingly quickly. Far quicker than any of the other destructive things that went on in this ship. All that really needed to be fixed was the dented in walls, paint over the blackened scorch marks, and replace the melted furniture. All the reports had to be rewritten, which didn't go down well with anybody. Jazz handed in his late datapad, glad that it had been late. His week of monitor duty had been finally completed, and everything had gone back to normal. Surprisingly, the saboteur had actually forgiven the SIC for sentencing him to the boring hell of monitoring the base.

Prowl read over a medical report that had just come in. Wheeljack's lab exploded, resulting in the inventor injured – again. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were attacked by Ironhide after they set off glue bombs in his room. Bumblebee crashed into a lamp post after swerving to avoid a drunken driver. And Hound fell off a cliff. Just a normal day at the Ark.

The Praxian released a weary vent. Why they couldn't have crash landed with more serious mechs, he would never know. An act of pure ill-fated events. Ones that he wished he could change at times, but at others he wouldn't choose anything else.

Besides, half the time the ruthless shenanigans of these Bots got them out of a lot of extremely life threatening dangers, which would have turned out different in other situations.

Of course he also wished there was… well… peace and quiet. Just once when everything just went still for a day. No reports, no Twins – mainly – no distractions, no Decepticons. Just one day where he could just sit and read a book file of his choice.

He hadn't had one of those days in over six million years.

Placing down the pad he checked the time, and allowed a small – and very rare – smile to grace his faceplates. It was only a short time now.

Checking the work pile on the right side of his desk, he was glad to see that only a few reports remained. He had spent the past week completing most of his work, and pressuring the officers to get the files in as quickly as possible. They didn't know why though.

He was surprised by how eager he was for this day. In fact, he had never really been eager for… anything. Except the end of the war of course.

But everybody was eager for that.

He grabbed the next report. And blinked in surprise. This was from Jazz. And it wasn't three months late. This was from a few days ago, on a recon mission that the spies had been sent on to study the enemies latest movements.

This was very strange…

His concerns were laid to rest a few moments later, as said friend hacked into the new office door. This had been the last thing added. He looked up, amused, as the master spy strode into the room, exhibiting the suave that only Jazz could accomplish.

"Jazz," He greeted the mech, "You do understand that you simply could've requested an entry."

"Eh, where's tha fun in that?" He walked closer to the newly replaced desk and made polite conversation, "So, gettin' any closer ta findin' tha mech who blew up your room?"

"Unfortunately not. I daren't suggest a Decepticon infiltrator, as Red Alert will most likely shut down the entire Ark." He spoke while going over the file he was currently looking at.

The TIC blinked in surprise, "Was that a joke?"

"No, it is an inevitability. As is our current situation of still having Perceptor and Wheeljack out searching for more earth specimens to experiment on, being locked out with no protection would not be very productive."

"Ya know they do 'ave weapons." Jazz reminded him. Prowl resisted the urge to scoff.

"And yet we both know that they are not very handy with those weapons. Due to this war, many Cybertronians have had to adapt very quickly to the harshness of battle. Medics, scientists-"

"Tacticians." The saboteur added.

"Tacticians are trained to be targeted while on the battlefield. It is normal for them to learn before hand." It was stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah? Well many Bots thought you couldn't fight, and ya proved them wrong." Jazz brought back past memories of when it was the start of all the battles.

"That is because I trained in the art of Circuit Su before the war began. They did not know that."

"Just like ya don't know what 'Jack and 'Ceptor can do. Just give them a chance, kay?" A reluctant nod was his reply as the Tactician placed down the datapad.

"And thank you Jazz for turning in a report on time." _For once,_ was added afterwards. The saboteur smirked.

"Well, there is a reason for that. The other Bots and Ah are settin' up a movie night and even tha Prime's attendin'. Kind of like a day off thing. Red Alert won't budge o' course, so Ah decided to try ya." Now Prowl understood the reason for the early work.

"So I am your second choice?" He turned this into an accusation.

Jazz hastened to explain, "Nah, nah, it's just ya never seem to watch anythin' so we weren't really holdin' out on ya acceptin'." It made sense when put like that.

The SIC looked back down at his work as another datapad was grabbed from the pile, "Well thank you for the offer Jazz, but I have plans tonight."

That stopped everything. The Praxian had never said those words in that order – ever. It was literally unheard of.

The spy replayed those words through his processor to see if he had heard right. Yep. The TIC actually started in surprise when it was confirmed. He regained control pretty quickly, and this instantly turned into an interrogation.

"What kind of 'Plans'?" He asked. Prowl didn't look up from work.

"I am meeting Anne in a few breems. We arranged this on the… set time we had last week. We wished to continue a conversation that we started, but the lateness of the hour cut that topic short."

"Oh…" Jazz thought for a moment before activating a tight comm. to Mirage /: 'Raj man, Ah got a job for ya:/

/: What is it Jazz?:/ The Spy answered immediately.

/: Ya remember last time when ya spied on Prowl's date with that human femme?:/

/: … Yeah…:/ Very hesitant reply.

/: Well he's goin' on another one. Ah need ya to follow 'im:/ The saboteur requested. There was a _long _pause.

/: Do I have to? It's the human visual images night:/

/: Ya mean movies?:/ The TIC asked, unimpressed. Being a spy meant getting to understand and know your surroundings. Not this.

/: Uh… yeah. Sorry. But why can't you do it?:/ He really was not up for this job again. Nothing very interesting happened last time. And if he accepted this, he'd forever be the guy to 'Follow Prowl around'.

/: 'Cause Ah can't turn invisible. Do Ah need ta turn this into an order?:/

A resigned sigh came across the line /: No…:/ Very begrudging.

/: Good, be ready:/

"Jazz, who are you communicating with?" The SIC's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Uh… no one. Jus' 'Hide." He stated quickly. The Tactician cocked his head to the side.

"Those sentences contradict one another. Unless you are implying that Ironhide is no one important."

At this time, one thought was going through the saboteur's processor, _Damn you Prowl and your logic!_

"Uh, yeah. He wasn't anyone important." Simultaneously sending mental apologies to the weapons mech, even though he couldn't hear it.

"Hmm." A distracted assurance of that fact came from the SIC, as he completed the last report. Standing up, he went to the door, passing his friend, "Enjoy your visual images night Jazz."

There was not a lot that could get to the Saboteur, but the few things that did was a lack of respect for modern technology. Even if it was human modern technology, "Movies." He whispered angrily as the Praxian continued down the halls.

Sending an affirmative to Mirage, Jazz made to walk down the hall, heading to the rec room. It was still early, but he was going to help set up the things necessary. Blaster already had most of it under control, but the TIC wanted to make sure that acoustics sounded half decent.

The rec room doors slid open and he stepped in. Immediately, he identified three human life forms. Two belonging to Spike and Carly, the other belonging to…

"Chip. How ya doin' my man?" The saboteur greeted the wheelchair bound organic, and the boy smiled.

"Fine Jazz. Came to see the show, and wondered if there was anything I can help with. Human technology is usually best done by a human." This was very true. The Bots got extremely frustrated with the small gadgets.

"Nah, we're good, right Blaster?" Their attention went towards said Autobot. He nodded quickly as he fiddled with Cybertronian sized speakers. There were already several Bots in the room, some here for energon, others to help with equipment, or simply argue over what movies to watch.

Smokescreen sauntered in, "So, what visual images are we watching?" He asked.

Jazz face palmed, and he spoke very slowly and quietly but it soon got louder, "Movies, films, videos, moving pictures, cinematic projections! Any of these are fine, just not visual images!"

All conversation stopped at his outburst. If there was one thing that could irk the TIC that much, it was the term 'Visual images'.

"Okay, sorry." Smokescreen moved on, probably looking to find some mechs to have a game. Ah, gambling. Praxians were the best at that. The door wings helped a lot.

"Um… cool… well; I brought a list of movies that we can watch, depending on what you guys feel like." Carly held out a large box, containing many DVD's. All attention was on her, and Bots waited for her to call them out, internet's ready to look up the descriptions of these flicks.

"Alright we've got 'The Guns of Navarone', 'Battle of Britain', 'Deliverance', 'Sound of Music'," – Give me a break, this is set in the 20th century, do you know how much I had to look up to simply find half of these? – "Um… then there's the Monty Pythons-"

"No can do on that one." Blaster interrupted her. She blinked.

"Well… why not?"

Everybody sighed, and Ratchet answered, "If I just say the Twins, crashing Prowl, and total lock down of the base, will you leave it at that?"

She nodded very slowly, afraid to ask, "Ok… moving on. 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', 'Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom', 'Amadeus', 'Aliens'-"

"No." Was the simultaneous answer to the last suggestion.

"Fine, fine. Uh… 'Nightmare on Elm Street', and… uh…" She trailed off, not wanting to give away the last video. The Bots waited patiently. She shrugged, and put that film back in the large box. They still waited, "That's it guys. What's your choice?"

"What was the last one?" Bluestreak asked. She hesitated.

"It's nothing you guys would want to see. So what do you want to-"

"Come on, tell us!" Hound called out from the back. She sighed and muttered something quietly.

"What?!" Ironhide demanded. She flinched slightly, but nonetheless, spoke louder.

"Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs." Carly eventually stated. The humans waited while the Bots looked that up.

"Sounds interestin'." Jazz was the first to answer. The blonde organic raised her eyebrows.

"But… it's such a kid's movie. You guys wouldn't enjoy it."

"We can't decide that until we've seen it." Blaster pointed out. She just gave up and shrugged.

"Fine, if you guys wanna watch it, you can. But pick a few other movies as well. One film isn't gonna satisfy the entire night. Not unless it's a really long one." The last bit was muttered. The votes were cast relatively quickly. Very surprising. They decided on 'The Snow White' out of pure curiosity 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' 'Amadeus' and 'Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom' – the 'Doom' bit helped.

"Alright, good choices." Carly took them over to the player for later that night. Jazz grabbed himself an energon cube, and Chip looked around.

"Hey, where's Prowl? Blaster said you went to look for him – and Red Alert – to see if they wanted to watch."

The Saboteur grinned, and spoke loud enough so that the others could hear perfectly well, "Prowl's busy. Off on a date with that femme from last week." The Cybertronian equivalent of coughing could be heard as Bots sputtered on their energon.

The three humans stared. Especially the organic that had asked the question, as he had not been around for the very entertaining display last week. Poor guy. Missed out on a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Ratchet was the first to voice his surprise, "What?! Last time was simply so that she would keep funding us, then he no longer had to see her. But he's willingly going along with it? Bots got more screws loose than Wheeljack."

"Are you still having Mirage following him?" Sideswipe asked. Jazz froze as many pairs of optics, who didn't know about this, turned to him.

"Uh… yes." The 'Yes' was drawn out.

_Why? _Was the simultaneous vibe being sent around the room. The saboteur made to explain, "First time was ta make sure that he didn't screw up and end up making her drop tha contract. This time… well it was unexpected, and he seemed glad ta be goin'. Ah wanna know why."

That wasn't good enough for them apparently, as questions began to fly. And somehow, Sunstreaker was able to disappear into the background without anyone noticing.

Jazz sighed. He hoped Prowl was having a better time.

* * *

In fact, he was. The Cybertronian was driving down the road as he listened to Anne talk. The conversation had eventually shifted to optimistic thoughts of the future, and she was busy contemplating on hers. It was rather interesting, in a surreal way.

"Then I'll retire from the company, and watch as they fall into disarray. It'll be rather interesting to see. Maybe I'll travel a bit, go to Asia, Europe. Sell my house and get a smaller place, go hitchhiking across the states. I don't know. We live much shorter lives than you guys, might as well get it all in while we can. I had different ideas when I was younger though." She stared out the window as they drove down the highway. Where they were going was a mystery to her, as Prowl had decided on it.

"Such as?" He asked, hoping to keep the interesting conversation going. He wished to know more about this 'Anne Parker'. She intrigued him. This in turn, made him wary.

"Well… I suppose it's what every girl wishes for at least once in her life." She continued to stare out of the window, and the Praxian waited.

When she didn't speak further, he pressed her, "I am unfamiliar with the female mind, Miss Parker. Care to enlighten me?"

She smirked at that, "You are somehow able to make anything sound logical, and yet gentlemanly at the same time. Ok… you know, a family, a nice home… love." She practically whispered the last part, not wanting to scare off the only chance she had at that. Even if it was with a giant alien robot that would most likely outlive her. Unfortunately, Cybertronians have exceptional hearing.

"And… you have not found love?" He asked. This was heading into a conversation that was not his high point. Anything that had to do with full out emotion he failed at.

"Well, other than with my mother and father. But that's family love. Can't say I particularly liked my siblings though. But no, I have not found love." She explained. Prowl jumped on the sibling's thing.

"You have siblings?" He asked. She nodded, and frowned.

"Although, they are far more like blood sucking leeches. Except its more like 'Money sucking' leeches. They're always coming to me to ask for a loan that they never pay back. Although, they probably think I'm the selfish one, not giving them cash. I suppose they're slightly right. Nobody gets to my position through honesty and hard work. We do a lot of things that we're not proud of."

"That was made evident the astrosecond we arrived on this planet." The SIC commented. She nodded, accepting that analysis. Mainly because it was true.

"How about you? What'll you do when the war's over?" – I really did not enjoy the outcome of the G1 movie; I felt that it was a let down after killing off so many great characters that we never saw again.

"I… do not know. I have not thought about it, as the war feels as though it will never end. And it most likely never will. I suppose I will keep serving under Optimus, and continue like that." He surmised. She sighed, and looked pointedly at the steering wheel, where all humans apparently look whenever Transformers aren't in bipedal mode, for some reason.

"Ok, what was your plan before the war?" She rephrased, hoping to get a better response out of him.

"… When I was… as you humans say, in 'Teenager years' my future ideas were very similar to yours I suppose. Later it was going into the Enforcers. I studied in tactical planning and then worked for a while, so I did live some of my more adult dream. Then the war started.

"Which one, love or travel?" She asked about the similarities. He hesitated.

"Both."

Anne smiled, "Well, maybe you'll accomplish them one day. Hey, where exactly are we going? This is just a large expanse of interstate." – Don't judge me if I got it wrong.

"We are on route to Salem." He told her. The brunette cocked her head to the side in confusion.

"Why Salem?" Anne was already wondering what type of second date this was.

"Because it is far away from Portland, and the people I work with. It shall give us privacy to talk undisturbed. Besides, I have not learnt much on your human state. I was hoping you may be able to explain."

"Not much to explain. We've got impressive mountains; it's extremely cold anytime after summer, and even in summer it can get cold. We have an alien ship stuck in a volcano in Portland with really interesting beings inside there," Now she was becoming sarcastic. This was going over his head, "We got rivers, and most of the time… yeah, I don't have anything to say after that."

"Well that seems an adequate definition of this state." Saying so, the Praxian pulled over to the side of the road, opened his doors for the woman, and waited. She glared at the steering wheel.

"Is this where you dump me?" She demanded. He released a vent.

"No, Miss Parker. I was having a particularly hard time deciding on a place to go. This shall save time if we simply speak here. And it is more comfortable when I am in my bipedal mode."

"Oh… well in that case." Anne got out, and waited, not even complaining about the lack of a venue for this occasion. It was nice out, and so far, both dates had been spent outside. One on a piece of land, and this one on the side of a road.

She enjoyed her life.

The Praxian transformed and held out his servo for her. She glanced at it before stepping on. Prowl began walking away from the highway, and out onto the more natural plain. It was quieter further away from the cars.

Mirage had been driving behind them in camouflage mode, as he knew that Prowl would immediately identify his vehicle mode. Even though there were other cars like his, he wasn't going to take the risk.

He wondered why the SIC and his human 'Friend' had cut off from their previous destination. Unless this was their destination, but that didn't seem plausible.

So, following them, he turned off as well and transformed all the while invisible. While it may have been a bit risky driving on crowded roads cloaked, he did have a job to do. Even if that job was not one of his choice.

He reflected on his life. Once, he lived in the Towers. Now he was basically stalking his commander.

How the mighty have fallen.

* * *

**THE ARK**

**22: 34 P.M**

Mirage trudged into the Ark, weary, and covered in mud. Long story short, Anne and Prowl had begun talking about politics, he had gotten bored, the fell down a muddy slope. They had kept talking for a while, till night set in and decided to return. The spy had been so relieved that he had begun running back.

Only for them to stop at this cliff over hang on the femme's word that 'The view was nice'. Then they had begun talking about Hilary Clinton.

He had waited behind them for an hour and a half until the temperature dropped lower, and they set back for the road, the human still in the SIC's servo, and still talking about Republicans and Liberals.

The spy had wanted something more interesting to happen, and at one point, considered actually yelling at them to talk about something else, or even just sit quietly. But no, they only talked about politics.

He had gotten in a few minutes after Prowl, and so had not heard the conversation about another 'Set time'. He simply wanted to go see the visual images before they were all over.

So, sucking up as much dignity he could muster while still covered in dirt, he stepped into the rec room, where they were luckily just changing over the movies. He thanked Primus for this one kindness, seen as the almighty Cybertronian hadn't granted him any others this night.

The gathered mechs looked up at his arrival. Jazz greeted him coolly, "Hey 'Raj! You're just in time for tha new movie. What happened ta ya?"

Mirage now knew how Prowl felt around these mechs, and his optic twitched in anger, "They decided to go off route and into a wooded area. I fell down a hill. They only talked about politics." He focused his attention on the three humans that were watching this with amusement, and just to spite them – he normally wouldn't have done this – "You're planet is a terrible place, and the people on it suck. What movie are we watching?"

There was silence, "… uh… Snow White…" Ratchet informed him. The spy looked it up, and raised an optic ridge. He had to see this. So many Bots would ask questions throughout the film. And if either Prowl or Red Alert were here, they would crash.

"Cool, let's get on with it."

When the movie ended, it was put on the 'Banned list' – right above Monty Python.

* * *

Anne sat at the table, looking down at the familiar book. She had finished complaining about her siblings after meeting her attorney's last week. Now, she was contemplating over this. Lame – yes. Needed – kind of.

You would also want to record a few things if you were dating an alien.

She paused at that. They weren't specifically 'Dating'. That was just her desperation getting at her. But – as with the conversation they had today – she was remaining optimistic.

"Of course, if I was given the chance and he wouldn't remember any of it, I could probably say what I actually dreamt of for the future. A painless reminder that I am going to die alone and hopeful that they'll come up with a nice way to die. Preferably with hallucinations that show you what your life would've been like. Yeah… that would be a nice way to go…" She kept talking to herself.

Dave watched from the door. He worried for his boss. Mainly because she paid him so well, but also for the fact that she always voiced her most negative thoughts. He wondered if he should suggest a therapist.

The man knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but it was a huge house, and there was absolutely _nothing _to do.

You can't blame him from listening in on his… depressed... employer.

A piece of her talking caught his attention, "… Huh, imagine if I have to introduce him to my parents. That'll go down well." She began writing again.

The door bell rang, but she seemed oblivious to it. He sighed and went towards it. Checking through the view hole, he noted that one Miss Parker's siblings had arrived. He walked back to Anne, wanting to inform her, before allowing the other female in. He knew the slight dislike that his employer had for them.

"Mam, your sister is here. Should I allow her in?" He asked. She sighed and looked up from her work, before stalking past him to open it herself.

She didn't even greet, just gesturing the woman inside. This sister was typically… model who failed at her job stereotype.

Example – evidently dyed blonde hair, and cheap clothes that you get from an illegal clothes business. Way to much make up, with clikitty clakitty heels.

"Hello Alex, what do you want?" Anne demanded. Might as well cut to the chase.

"What? Other than to see my older sister." Stress on older.

"Don't pull that on me. I'm not giving out money."

"I'm not here to ask for money. I'm here to set you up." The blonde placed down her hand bag on the ground, and stared at her sister. Said sister was currently staring slack jawed at her.

"You've come… to set me up? With a guy right? This isn't some messed up intervention?" Anne was checking she had heard right.

"Why would this be an intervention?" Alex asked. Dave resisted the urge to call out that his boss was possibly suicidal, opting instead to go get tea.

"Uh… never mind. But I don't need a set up. I'm seeing someone." I.e. some-bot.

At this, the blonde looked incredulous, "Really? That doesn't sound like you, you're desperate. Is it a homeless guy that you paid?" That was a joke. Of course it was.

But Anne still hesitated, "… No… I… uh… he's… uh… not even the same species as me." Yes. Desperate.

Alex blinked, "You went for your cat?"

"No! And I don't have a cat!" She hissed back. Dave came into the room and placed down the tea, quickly deciding to get out when he heard 'Went for your cat'. He was not being paid enough.

"Fine then," The sister picked up the tea, "Is it a dog?"

Anne pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated, "No… he's… ugh… he's an alien. You know the ones that are quite often on the news. The Autobots."

Alex simply stared, "You are desperate."

"Yes I am." Let's not try to hide it anymore, "But hey, if I wasn't, I wouldn't have gone out with him."

The blonde put down the cup, and sighed, "I don't know what to do with you Anne. I don't see you for a few weeks and you're dating this… giant alien robot. Which one is it?"

"Second in Command."

"Eh, going for higher power, that's good. Name?"

"Prowl."

"Ok and here's what I've got. His name's Michael Derse, round about your age, and willing to meet you." She explained.

Anne was unconvinced, "Me or my money?"

"Who cares, you're the one dating a robot."

"And I am happy about that. And it isn't specifically dating, as I've only been out with him twice."

"Then you can leave him now, and try out this _human _guy. Mom and dad won't be particularly pleased that the daughter they wanted to be a housewife is now with an…"

"Autobot." The brunette provided. Alex snapped her fingers.

"Yes, that. Come on Anne. A one chance with this guy and you could still get your emotional life on track."

"Once again, no. I'm fine with Prowl. He's an alright guy- bot." She amended her mistake.

Alex leaned back then, "Fine, I understand that. You like him. Here's what I'm proposing." Anne stifled a groan, "You go out with this guy on one date. If you like him, that's great. If you don't, I keep quiet from our parents, and you continue with… what's his name."

"Prowl."

"Yes. That's it."

Anne sighed. Why she had such tiring siblings was a curse that she would never be rid of. Their voices were in her head at nights, and at times it was just not worth sleeping. She did it anyway, because eventually it just turned into a buzzing sound, then she was in a meadow with lots of bees.

"Fine. I'll see. But it has to be before next week Tuesday. I have something set up that day. Now go, I have a conference in an hour."

Ten minutes later, the blonde woman was gone, and Miss Parker was back at the table, writing in that leather book. Dave sighed. He deserved a raise. And then a really long vacation from his _strange _boss and her _strange _family.

* * *

PLEASE REVIEW

To tell you the truth… not what I wanted it to be. But then again, it is quarter to twelve here. At night.

Anyway, I want to thank the awesome people who reviewed last time. Eleven reviews for only two chapters! I once wrote a Fanfiction with eighteen chapters, and I only got eleven reviews. Now I get eleven for only two chapters. Awesome.

kittycatcalamity

2211Nighthawk – Thank you about the writing style comment. The first few Fanfictions I wrote weren't too great though.

FallingLBet (2)

Guest

Neon (2) – Yes, the Asian are very lucky. I lived in Vietnam for a year, and I was friends with them. They got way luckier than any of us did, believe me. Skin is absolutely flawless.

And anyone else who has previously reviewed, or favourite/ followed the Fanfic. Once again, please review, that would be great. There will hopefully be faster updates on this one for the next two weeks, so… yeah.


	4. Meet Michael

**MISTAKES CAN BE POSITIVE**

* * *

**PORTLAND**

**18: 42 P.M**

Anne stood in front of the tall mirror in her bedroom, and checked over her appearance. She wore a long navy dress, with long sleeves, and a v-neckline. Her hair was in a tight bun. She sighed.

While she may not technically be going out with Prowl, it still felt like she was… well cheating.

Which was absurd. She had only met the mech about… the human hadn't really kept track of time. Maybe two and a half weeks? Either way. He'd probably be glad to be rid of her. Be rid of the desperate old lady…

Why was her mind always so cruel to her?

Anne shook away her thoughts. If this went well with Michael then… she would have a lot to think about. She still had to consider Prowl. He was a nice… Bot. But then Michael _was _human. There would be fewer complications with him.

A knock at the door drew her attention, and Dave stepped in. He rarely needed to wait for her permission to enter, as he knew that there was a very unlikely chance she would reply, "Mam, the car is ready."

Miss Parker shook her head, "I'm gonna drive. It would be better than pulling up in a private car. Wouldn't want him assuming too much right?"

The man sometimes never knew how to reply to her. So, he opted for nodding instead, and left the room, intent on getting to his own home as soon as possible.

Anne hurried down the stairs. While she was lucky to have this fortune, she sometimes wondered if it was too much. In truth, it hadn't been her idea to start this company, and she had actually had help. A start up fund had been supplied to her by a close friend from her past. If not for him, she'd be just like her siblings. Most likely in debt, but actually in a relationship.

She paused, "Damn it!" Now she was angry at the guy who made her rich.

Flinging open the door, she stood on the threshold of her house and stared at the changing colours of evening. It was only August, but night would soon be dominating the early and later hours of the day, as winter approached.

Drawing in a breath, she stalked over to her car, locking the door behind her. It was not a very fancy vehicle – specifically for tonight's evening.

Pulling onto the road, she made her way to the specific destination. The restaurant it had been set at was… ok… but she had been to better. Maybe he was cheap.

Anne wanted to hit herself. This was not about money, this was about meeting a potential guy, while the other… 'Guy'… was oblivious of this.

She now felt disgusted with herself. She had turned into her siblings. Going behind the backs of other… beings.

Pulling a sharp turn into a parking space, she craned her neck to see into the large windows of the restaurant. But it was a fruitless attempt. She didn't even know what this guy looked like. All that her sister had said was: "Just tell the guy's name to the guy."

Anne had replied with: "Who's the guy?"

After a while it was eventually figured out that she had to give Michael's name to the concierge. She wondered why her sister had no knowledge of that title, seen as Alex had been married to a concierge at one point. Which then later ended in an ugly divorce. And a restraining order.

Getting out of the vehicle – and remembering to lock it behind her – Miss Parker made her way to the entrance. Unfortunately there was a line. A long line.

She sighed, and waited for this to be over with. Great start to the night. She listened in on the menial conversations of the couples. Couples who apparently couldn't afford to go to any other restaurant in this goddamn town.

She may have been labeled desperate by a lot of people, didn't mean she had unlimited amounts of patience. She was – in a way – a human being, and they were known to be… well impatient.

After finally becoming second in line, she waited for the two people in front of her to finish up. But they were taking forever.

"Uh, hi yeah could we get a seat by the window?" The female asked. Anne sighed in annoyance. The concierge informed them that there was no available seating there. Miss Parker wondered why they simply didn't reserve.

"Oh… well is there any chance of making it possible? This is kind of important." The man pressed instead. The brunette behind them knew that this was going to take a while unless she did something.

"Hey, buddy?" She tapped his shoulder. He turned to her. "I'll give you five hundred bucks to just get moving. You're keeping up everyone here, and it's not fair on us. Just accept whatever table they have, and be on your way." She put on one of those 'Evidently pissed off' smiles.

He took offense. "Look… Miss…" He hesitated in saying the last part. "This is very important, and I would like it if everything goes as planned." He hissed so that the lady with him didn't hear.

Anne lost the smile. "Then maybe you should have made a reservation."

"I didn't know what place she would have liked to go to. It was-" He made to reply, but was stopped.

"It was on a whim. You got really lucky with someone, don't destroy that too soon. All I want is to see this guy I'm meeting while the other guy I went out with has no idea! It's to complicated to explain, but I will only be a minute. Ok?" She glared up at him, but he refused to move.

Now thoroughly ticked off – and getting more so by the minute – the brunette shoved past him and his date and stood in front of the concierge. "Hi, I'm here to see Michael Derse." She relayed. He had an impassive expression – very similar to Prowl, she noted.

"Mam, there was somebody here before you. Please return to the back of the line." He was now at the top of her 'One day I am going to sue you' list. Anne scowled. So far this night sucked. So she lowered herself to bribery.

Pulling out a wad of cash from her bag, she handed it over to him. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. Hesitating slightly, he looked back at her. "Mam, I cannot accept this. Please…" His gaze lingered on the cash before snapping out of it. "Return to the back of the line."

Miss Parker resisted the urge to gawk. Who turns down that much money? Especially with his job, he most likely needed it. An idea then popped into her head – not one she would like to actually use and there was a very high chance it may not work, but…

"What's your last name?" She asked. His head jerked back in slight surprise before replying.

"Uh… Spencer." He answered. The organic femme in question cursed then went to stand behind the couple previously in front of her, hiding the cash away.

Well, he wasn't an ex-husband to her sister, and she didn't know any of her employees with that last name. Plan unsuccessful.

After five minutes for the two in front to accept seats, her temper had grown dramatically. When the concierge turned his attention to her, she was openly scowling. He nodded at her slowly, knowing what she was here for and led her to the table.

The inside of the restaurant was nicely lit, sending off an almost gold glow. The tables were wooden, and the cutlery was laid out decently. She reserved further judgment for later that night, when she witnessed service.

The man she would be meeting had his back to her, and was fiddling with an empty wineglass. Well, at least he had the decency to wait for her. From what Anne could discern, he had light brown hair, much lighter than her own. That was about it.

She walked ahead of the man escorting her, and came into the line of sight of… Michael Derse. The first thought that came to mind was stereotypically who movies come up with for the heroine to fall in love with. Perfectly sculpted facial features, clean shave, brushed hair, muscles – literally no imperfections whatsoever.

He stood up and smiled – perfectly straight and white teeth – and offered his hand out to her. "Hello, you must be Anne. I am Michael. Your sister has told me much about you."

"Wish I could say the same." She muttered, but returned the smile. He moved to pull out her seat, but she beat him to it. Dave never did it for her, so it was simply habit. Smiling again – this time awkwardly – he returned to his own seat.

A brief silence claimed them before a waiter came over to take their drink choices. As was per usual for a restaurant.

Michael answered first. "A Cabernet Sauvignon please."

Anne raised an eyebrow at that. Where the hell did Alex find this guy? She turned her attention to the waiter. "Can I get a martini?" It was so simple compared to his. By name though, not by make.

"Yes mam." He left, and they once again lapsed into silence.

The femme shifted uncomfortably, and tried to distract herself. This had a déjà vu feel to it. Like when she first went out with Prowl. Maybe she could try out that conversation again.

"Want to complain about the people we work with?" The brunette asked. He blinked at the strange question.

"Uh… I like the people I work with." Michael replied. Right. Of course he did. There was nothing wrong with him. He was friends with everyone.

"Okay…" She trailed off in frustration, and opted instead for eavesdropping on other conversations and pretending that they were talking to her.

Mr. Derse noticed her growing lack of interest in him, and tried to correct that. "So… what do you do for a living?" Of course he knew the answer to that! If her sister told him a lot about her there really should be no doubt in this!

But for the sake of it, Anne didn't question him. "I own a company. You?"

"I'm a private attorney." Of course he is! Add lots of sarcasm.

Well at least they were getting somewhere. "Do you have any siblings?" The darker haired organic asked him.

He nodded. "I have three brothers and two sisters. Other than your sister, how many do you have?"

"I try not to think about it. Better that than having to remember _all _of their names." She made a joke and he laughed. Finally. We are moving forward.

Now – as per the fact that the drinks may take a while to arrive – we shall cut off from their conversation as I do not have a lot of topics lined up to cover the next six sections. We will swing over to the Autobots, and see what they are doing, as this Fanfic has been placed in the Transformers category, and that is what you deserve.

* * *

**THE ARK**

**20: 19 P.M**

Jazz lay on his bunk, listening to blaring music. He was bored. His shift had just ended for the night, but now he had nothing to do. Even though he could have completed several reports that were late in.

He didn't need to recharge at the moment, and he had already refueled. So that left…

/: Hey Prowler:/ To annoy Prowl.

He didn't get a reply, and knew the Praxian was ignoring him. But he did not relent /: What ya doin'?:/

A weary and tired sigh came across the line /: Jazz, please do not interrupt me. I have to complete three days of work by tonight. And that is increasingly hard with you pestering me:/

/: Why are ya tryin' ta complete three days of work in one day?:/

/: So that I do not garner to much backlog when I meet Anne on the earth day Tuesday:/ He answered without thinking. Jazz raised an optic ridge.

/: So… ya're worki' yarself ta death ta meet this girl?:/

/: I would not say working to death- :/ The SIC began to reply, but was cut off by the saboteur.

/: Mech ya really like her:/ He exclaimed. In his office, Prowl flinched.

/: Yes. She is a… friend of mine. I enjoy conversing with her on different topics- :/ He was again interrupted by his friend.

/: Nah! Ah mean like, ya like like 'er:/ His cryptic words made no sense to the tactician.

/: Jazz I have a very fragile emotional and logic cortex. Please explain in a way that I may be able to understand without being sent into a crash:/

/: Ah mean that ya have feelin's for 'er:/

It took a moment for what the master spy meant to seep into his hazy processor, but when it did, he immediately defended himself /: What? I can assure you that that is not the case:/

/: Just keep lyin' ta yarself mech. It don't change tha truth:/

Another sigh came across the line /: Jazz if you have nothing better to do, please go for a drive in the earth city and make sure there are no Decepticons:/ With a click the communication was cut.

The TIC took that into mind. Why hadn't he thought about that before?

Shutting off the music as he knew other Bots in the Ark may be recharging, the saboteur stalked to the opening of the ship and transformed.

Jazz enjoyed the human customs. Far too much for his own good at times, usually introducing things to the Autobots that nobody could make heads or tales of.

He liked the cities, and the buzzing of its night life. Yet at the same time, it was also dangerous as a lot of the young people got behind the wheel of their vehicle extremely intoxicated.

Which then resulted in many accidents.

He reached the roads of Portland and began the unofficial look out for 'Cons. While also not looking out for 'Cons, as he was enjoying watching the humans interact with each other and the environment around them.

There were only a few Bots who hadn't embraced part of the human experience. Hound enjoyed nature, Wheeljack explored human mechanics, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exploited the organics large foray of pranking ideas etc.

And Jazz explored the musical side of this strange species.

He rounded a corner, and saw what looked like a street parade. Instantly he took up parking and began to watch. Human culture. Nobody would ever understand it. They had so many religions it was incredible. The Cybertronians only had one and it was basically a proven fact. They never had a war over religion. The humans seemed to have one every century.

A shower of sparks erupted from where the parade was, and Jazz was ready to intervene. But relaxed when he realised it was only a special effect.

Ah, humans.

Anne and Michael left the restaurant and stood on the sidewalk, silently watching the show. They had not been here when the femme arrived, but apparently they were now. It seemed like a cheap event, but was attracting viewers.

He turned towards her and smiled – again – "I had fun tonight."

She hesitated. "Uh… yeah, so did I. the food was good."

"You sure you're okay to drive?" He asked. She did have quite a few martinis. Mainly so that she could make free conversation with him.

The brunette waved it off. "I'll be fine. When I was twenty one, I drove all the way to Seattle totally drunk. Didn't hit a single car or break the rules. Though when I woke up it was very… unnerving. I didn't remember anything from the night before."

He stared at her. "Well… then how did you know that you didn't hit anything or disobey any rules?"

"Oh, my mother was with me at the time." Was explanation enough. Michael nodded slowly, and then held out a slip of paper. She took it and read it over. A bunch of numbers which were probably a phone number.

She glanced up at him. "What are we, sixteen?"

He laughed at that. "I would like to do this again sometime. Whenever you're free, just call." With that he waved goodbye and left to wherever his car was.

Anne considered the piece of paper. "Maybe." Slipping it into her bag, she made to her own car.

And stopped when the place it had been parked was empty. There was no vehicle in sight. But this was a normal parking spa-

Oh... nope. Parking for thirty minutes only.

Damn.

But outwardly, she swore much worse. "SON OF A-!" You finish it off.

Jazz heard the loud shout and his attention was torn away from the parade to where it came from. He stopped in confusion when he saw the girl that had totally consumed his friend, swearing at a blank spot.

Deciding that the show on the street was no longer entertaining, he drove over to the angry femme. He stopped right in front of her, and she glared at the car, not knowing it was a giant alien robot.

That was until he spoke. "Hey, Miss Parker. What are ya doin' 'ere?"

She jumped back in shock at the suave voice and – instead of glaring – stared at the vehicular mode of the TIC.

"Uh… do I know you?"

"Pit yeah. Ah'm friends wit' Prowl!" He replied. She relaxed visibly.

"Oh, well that's good. I thought somebody had come to kill me."

A single thought went through his processor: _Why would anyone want to kill you? What do you do in your spare time that would make anyone want to kill you?_

He asked a different question though. "Why are ya screaming at a parkin' space?"

"Oh…" She put a hand to the back of her neck. "My car got towed."

"Oh…"

"Yeah… hey, I don't suppose you could give me a ride back to my house? If it's not to much of a bother." She reassured the last part. The saboteur was a moment in replying, as he wanted to figure out what it was about this particular organic that had Prowl actually _wanting _to socialize with her.

"Of course ya can. Hop in. Where do ya live?" He asked. She told him the address and he looked up that location. Jazz whistled in surprise. "Nice place ya got there."

"Helps when you're rich. So, what are you doing out here?" Anne made conversation as they peeled away from the sidewalk and into oncoming traffic. They pulled out in front of a large lorry, and picked up speed.

"Ah was bored, and pesterin' Prowl wasn't workin'." A laugh was the expected response. Miss Parker stared out of the window afterward, and then seemed lost in thought. Remembering his objective, the saboteur restarted conversation.

"What are ya doin' 'ere?" He asked her. She replied without thinking, something that was happening far too frequently.

"I was meeting a guy." Her hand instantly went over her mouth. Jazz may have only been on this planet for four million and two years – with four million of those years dead – he knew enough to know that when an earth female says that – thank you movies and Carly's helpful pieces of advice – it was usually a more romantic thing. Especially with her reaction.

"Hmm… and who was this 'Guy'?" He asked, suspicion now claiming him. The human now knew that there was no way to hide this from the master spy, and relented.

"My sister set me up with him. His name is Michael Derse, and… truthfully he is kind of boring." Ah, girl talk with an alien robot. No this is definitely normal.

"Then… are ya gonna see him again?" Good Jazz, play along. She shrugged absentmindedly, thinking about it.

"I don't know. Maybe? It's just… it would be easier with him. He's human, and I'm human. He wouldn't outlive me by a few billion years." Her reply stumped him. From what he could discern about human love – and movies – was that even if you were near death, as long as you loved somebody, everything was pretty much fine. That was freaking cheesy even by romance fanatics standards.

"But it doesn't seem like ya're very interested in 'im." He pointed out. She nodded, accepting that fact at face value. There was literally nothing wrong with the guy she just met. He had no flaws. He ate perfectly, he talked perfectly, and he was the definition of 'Perfect'. And that sucked worse than if he was a drug addict.

Ok, maybe not that drastic.

"Then Ah don't understand." The mech stated. Anne sighed, and stared at the steering wheel – which every single human does because apparently, that is where they think they are talking to!

"I don't think I do either. I mean… I'm sure Prowl would probably be grateful to be rid of me." Mental conversation from earlier now becomes actual reality. "No more desperate old lady to annoy him." Notice how she has never actually had any other conversation with Jazz up till this point, yet somehow feels totally fine talking about her emotions with him. This was the power of being such a laid back Bot. Everybody just opened up to you. This helped with his job in Special Ops.

"Why would ya think that?" He demanded, and his change in demeanor surprised her. He was previously being the one who she could talk to, now he was defending his friend. "Prowl has been totally besotted by ya since he first met ya. He may not show it outwardly, but it's pretty obvious to anyone who's been around him. Tha mech hardly ever leaves 'is office, but now he's workin' harder than ever just so that he can meet ya."

Pause for one moment.

Yes, while this is slightly different than normal past writings where romance takes a long time, I am trying something new here, and going straight into it. Anyone who has read 'Objectives' can tell you that this is a very different romance plot, as in the other one it takes nearly thirty chapters to get anywhere. For the past few days, I have been reading up on other works, and then rereading my own, and I notice that a lot of the time, I am particularly emotionless. I literally have no descriptive powers at all when it comes to this. Sure fighting, I can give you brutal injuries etc. This? Not so much. So I am trying to rectify that when it comes to more relationship status.

Back to story.

Anne blinked at this revelation. "Wow… I didn't know. He's… besotted with me?" She really did not know how to react to a situation like this. It had never happened before in her whole life. That is sad. Even I have had a guy like me, and I don't date. But seriously? She had a terrible adolescence.

"But jus' as a heads up, there is a very slim chance Prowl'll admit this. Unless desperate. But that doesn't happen." Her mind was still reeling so she simply nodded, mouth hanging open slightly, and eyes glazed over as multiple thoughts went through her mind.

Jazz noted that they had arrived at the expensive complex. He scanned the rows of large houses till coming to the one that the femme lived in. he opened the door for her and she get out, composing herself. "Thank you Jazz. For everything." – This line is in nearly everything ever.

Had he been in his bipedal mode, he would've smiled at the organic. Or his trademark grin. Either one would do.

"It's fine. Hey, quick question?" He stopped her before she could leave. Glancing at him, as Anne turned away, she nodded for him to continue. "Uh… what are ya and Prowler doin' on Tuesday?"

"We're going hiking." She replied. At this, Jazz's engine stalled.

"Hikin'?" He couldn't believe it. Hiking. Prowl would be hiking. He wondered if the Pit had frozen over as well, and if Megatron had decided to come to a ceasefire. He also wondered if the Ark was miraculously fixed properly. It was simply not heard of.

Apparently, the organic femme seemed to sense his thoughts. "What's so spectacular about that? It's just around the volcano. Then maybe to whatever forest is closest."

"Nah, it's not that," He made to reassure her. "Ah've just never thought that Prowl would actually go hikin'. He's not one o' those mechs who go out much."

She shrugged, and a grin graced her own expression. "Well maybe I'll just have to change that. Also, why Prowler?" She shook her head in disbelief at the nickname, then walked back towards the house, waving goodbye.

He waited for her to enter the house, and then began to drive away, her last sentence hanging in the air. Not the 'Prowler' thing the one before that. _Well maybe I'll just have to change that._

There had been a surety to her voice. Almost as if she was intent on doing so.

_Well maybe I'll just have to change that._

He wondered if she realised that she already had.

* * *

**PORTLAND**

**23: 42 P.M**

Michael sat in his apartment, a glass of wine in his hand as he thought over the night's events. Truthfully, the owner of a large corporation was not what he had been expecting. Her sister had stated that she had been desperate – very dependable sibling – and yet her demeanor was more aloof and distracted.

Putting down the glass, he reached for his laptop – just go along with it. Yes it is 1986 but half the time we need these things just to make a point – and typed in 'Anne Parker' there were several references. The first few were on the owner of a mega corporation, the others were on suing charges she had been charged with, and then others were just internet accounts – but he highly doubted that it was her. Anne Parker was a very common name. There were bound to be hundreds of people with the same name. The only thing that made her different was the fact that she was rich.

Incredibly rich.

And not stuck in a small apartment like he was. Yes, being a private accountant paid alright, but it couldn't afford a mansion. Not like her money could.

Of course there were other aspects of her that were okay. She looked half decent for her age. That was about it for him.

In these dire times, money was what brought people together. And that is actually still true today. Can you imagine how many females are kicking themselves for not going out with Bill Gates when he was in school? Now he's a multibillionaire and they are probably stuck as boring housewives. Along with the few who went on to get a job.

He reclined on the tan sofa in his sparse living room and sighed. What he would give to be out of his boring job and living the high life. Why are there only a few people to ever accomplish great feats such as this? Although there may be many people to own a company, but if you looked them up, they did exist. Did he exist? According to the internet, no he did not.

Standing up, he went to the main window in the room, and looked at the brick wall view that he had. If that building in front of is didn't exist, he'd have a pretty good view of the city. But as fate would have it.

A phone rang and he instantly answered it. "Hello? Yes James… I'm working on it… don't you worry. I'll have it as soon as possible."

He hung up.

* * *

PLEASE REVIEW

Don't hit me!

Yes I am one day late, and I am totally sorry, but I found this you tube video, and could not look away. Most entertaining thing I have ever watched.

I have also been working on several other Fanfics, so I am sorry for the delay. I'll hopefully have the other Fics out soon, and most of them are one shots. I'm kind of trying to shore up the number of how many stories I've written. I'm up against a friend, so yeah.

Anyway, I want to thank the people who reviewed last chapter:

2211Nighthawk

kittycatcalamity

FallingLBet

Guest – It shall be explained in later chapters. Also, thank you for the suggestions on those movies. I will take them into account, as it will be a rather entertaining spectacle.

Neon – sorry, no cliché sentence today unfortunately. But that probably would have happened if so.

And anyone else who has previously reviewed, or favourite/ followed the Fanfic. Any suggestions or ideas are great, and please review. Also to anybody who reads Objectives, I shall try to get the new chapter out as soon as possible. My mind has kind of been focused on other stuff. I cut it really close to wrapping Christmas presents. Again, Please review!


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